This Is Nowhere

We all sit on the curbAnd we stare at the rain in our bootsThe car, the clouds, the skyWhile Ishmael wraps himself in the sheet againHe'll clench the fists and close his eyesI don't know how many times I can loan him my cigarettesWhen I don't even know if he's aliveDo prophets lie?It makes me feel less horrifiedAnd my closet's filled withAll these endless accoutermentsThese shoes, these scars, these shirts, these tiesAnd these things I say to make myself feel good againI'll speak, I'll write, I'll laugh, I'll lieI can't bear to sit here and drink myself sick againAnother nightWhen everything I know was just a lieAnd I don't even know where I'll sleep tonightI got nothing to do but stare at these wallsAnd take some time to screw my head on rightWe all ended up alone, wasted here at Silver LakeWe'll work, we'll feed, we'll change, we'll tryI can't make any sense of this or you or anythingI'm wide awake, and all our parents liedIt's not alright, and all our words collideAwake all night